


For Everything

by midnightcas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Character Death, Comfort, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Crying Stiles, Derek Deserves Nice Things, Derek Feels, Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Feels, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intense, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, No closure, Not A Happy Ending, Please Read Tags bc Last Time Yall Didnt, Real Life, Regret, Sad, Sad Ending, Stiles Feels, Tissue Warning, Tragic Romance, Unresolved, angsty angst, its just sad alright, personal piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightcas/pseuds/midnightcas
Summary: There is no retribution in death. It was over. And maybe there was a Heaven or a Hell or something else beyond all of this. But he wasn’t here and that was really all that mattered. He wasn’t there with them. And he never would be again.[or]comfort for something there can never be comfort for





	For Everything

**Author's Note:**

> So there's not much to say, really. 
> 
> Which is pretty out of character. But so is this fic. I know I've been on a 'leave of absence', and that'll probably last a little while longer, but I needed to release some pent up emotion and this, unfortunately, is how it came out.
> 
> I can't necessarily say there's a trigger WARNING unless you've been in this situation, I know it was a bit triggering for me, so just do your best in being careful and know that it's a very emotional piece (at least for me). I never cry when reading or writing or really anything, but I did here. I don't know if that's a testament to the piece or just where I am in life right now (so please let me know what you thought of this?) so just be weary.
> 
> Grab your ice cream and strap in.
> 
> Thanks so much for giving this fic a chance.  
> Best of luck and love  
> I'll see you soon
> 
> midnight x

“Stiles.”

Allison’s voice caught his attention from across the clearing. He turned, bat in one hand, while the other flailed with his motion. The rest of the town, he was sure, was dark. But the full moon illuminated the scene in front of him.

It was as if a spotlight from above was shining down on that exact spot in that exact moment. Stiles’ heart stopped.

While he had been chasing off the remaining members of the stray pack that had attempted to overrun the Hale Pack on the full moon, something...something had happened. He had known beforehand that there had been blood spilled. That there had been injuries on both sides but...

He ran over to where Cora stood, pale faced and quiet. And on the ground, he lay. Stiles could see the beads of sweat against smooth tan skin. He could see the starkness of the horrific red, where it stood out against the soft brown of the bent grass under his shape. He could see the white of teeth as he clenched his mouth in pain, hissing low and subconsciously. He could see the muddied green of pupils, ones that were always so sharp and aware, now confused and...and scared.

He had dropped his bat somewhere along his journey from there to here, his own face had paled and his once steady hands now shook in horror. He fell to his knees beside him, and carefully cradled him in his arms. He daren’t look at the wounds that lay, scattered and lethal, below his chest.

It would do little to remember them. He didn’t need any more concrete detail for his nightmares...his imagination was vast enough.

“Derek?”

He hadn’t known of the tears until a succession of them fell from his face onto the ground, morbidly mixing with the growing pool of blood. When there was no answer he looked to Scott.

“He’ll heal.”

No answer.

“He’ll _heal_.”

Silence.

“He’ll,” he blinked harshly, trying to clear the sudden onset of blurred vision, curling in his lips in an attempt to steady his voice, “he’ll heal.”

“No, Stiles.”

He didn’t expect it to be Peter’s voice that answered. But there had always been an uneasy feeling in his gut that Peter would one day have something to do with Stiles’ hell on earth.

The older man was knelt on the other side of Derek, hands bloodied with trying to stop the bleeding, trying to preserve life for...for as long as possible. With the inability to answer, he turned all his focus back on the man, whose eyes were staring up into his, ready and waiting for Stiles to tell him what to do next. But Stiles didn’t know.

“Derek-”  
  
“I know.”

His familiar voice immediately called to rest something in Stiles' chest. He only gripped him tighter.

“You...You'll be okay.”

The words were weak and unconvincing. Derek seemed to catch it, as he always did, a smirk tugging at his lips. But something in his eyes darkened when Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. He watched Derek’s large hand came up to cup his face lightly and brush away at another stream of tears.

“You’re sad.”

Stiles nearly laughed at the audacity of the observation.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a barbed comment and reached up with his free hand to wrap his warm fingers around Derek’s cold ones.

“No,” he whispered, a sob caught in his throat, “I’m okay.”

There was a silence around them. No one really knowing what to do or how...or even if this was real or just another one of their fucked up dreams. Their whole lives seemed like nightmares. Maybe this was just another scene. And it would all go away in the morning when they were forced to face an even more brutal reality.

Stiles shook his head, tightening his grip on Derek’s rough hand. He swallowed down the howl of sorrow down to his chest, and twisted his lips.

He was eighteen. He shouldn’t be having to lay to rest a friend. He should be worried about prom of boys or homecoming not...not this. But for all the things Derek had done for them...for _him_...he at least owed him this much. Even if it was nothing. Even if it was death when all Derek had ever given him was life. Even if it was this. He owed it to him. For everything.

“It’s okay,” his voice was weak and wobbly, but he pushed. For everything, “it’s _okay_. You’re...I’m here. You can let go now. You can rest. I’m right here with you, Derek. You can...you can let go.”

“Don’t want...” he coughed, bright blood peaking through his lips. Stiles wiped it off. Maybe it wouldn’t matter in another hour. But Derek deserved at least that much. For everything, “I don’t want to leave you.”

Stiles clenched his jaw. Fighting the shriek of panic, disbelief, horror, fear...

“I’ll be okay. I have...I have Scott. And Melissa. Cora. My dad. The pack. I’ll be okay.”

“But...”  
  
“You _made_ me okay, Derek. I’ll be okay.”  
  
“I don’t want to leave you.”

He looked down. Green eyes were dulling. Tan skin was paling. His body was shaking from exertion.

“His heart...” Peter murmured.

“You can go,” he choked out, bringing his other hand down to push back Derek's dark hair and to gently hold his face, “you can finally go. You _did_ your job. You did it. And you...you did _so_ good, Der.”

“But you’re...sad.”

“I’ll be okay,” it was barely a whisper, his words were on the cusp of a whimper.

“Promise?”

Stiles let out a huff of reluctant amusement and disbelief, “Yeah. I promise.”

“We’ll take care of each other,” Cora’s voice cut through the fog in Stiles’ brain, "Me and Stiles. We'll...we'll take care of each other."

And that affirmation seemed to be the thing he needed.

His hand fell limp in Stiles’ grip and his eyes grew even more distant. Stiles could feel Derek's entire body just...slowing down. He rested Derek’s heavy hand back down on his chest and continued to pet back his sweaty hair. There were several seconds of quiet before his breath hitched and his frame shuddered. A sob finally broke through Stiles’ sealed lips and he did his best to silence it to a heady breath.

He pressed a long slow kiss to Derek’s forehead, trying to convey his every emotion into it. He would have gone for the lips if hadn’t know that he surely would have been the next to die if he got a taste of something so honest and pure only to be denied it forevermore. Panic seized his chest when Derek’s eyes drifted shut.  
  
“Oh God. Oh God, oh God oh _God_ . I love you _so much_ Derek, you have no idea.”  
  
“I do,” he rasped back, “I do...too.”

It was at that moment that something...broke inside of him. Something he knew he would never be able to fix again. Something that would change everything forever.

“I’m sorry.”  
  
“No,” Stiles shouted, “No, don’t. Derek. Don’t say that. Don’t be...no. Please no. No.”  
  
But there was no answer.

His body was still, his breath was no more. His eyes cut up to Peter who only shook his head.

No.

Those...those couldn’t be he last words. Not after all the growth not after...not after everything.

He hated it.

Stiles _hated_ that those were his last words. That he died being _sorry_. And for what? Stiles would never know. It made him physically sick...that someone so beautiful and kind and...and so amazing...someone like Derek Hale could ever be sorry for anything. And he would never. Know. Why.

Stiles asked a thousand questions all of the time and for every one, Derek would give an impatient sigh and a patient answer. But...but there would never be that chance. Not in a dream. Not in real life. Not in an alternate reality. It didn’t happen like in movies or in books where people got a second chance. There was no ability to talk to someone after they were gone. After they had died. Not in real life.

Because death...there is no retribution in death. It was over. There was nothing more to be done. There was nothing more to be said. Derek Hale...he was gone. And maybe there was a Heaven or a Hell or something else beyond all of this. But Derek wasn’t there and that was really all that mattered. He wasn’t there with them. And he never would be again. It was final. This was death. All this time. After everything he had survived. Death just seemed...like a cruel joke at this point. Stiles wondered, how many times over the years Derek had wished for this fate. How many times he looked at a wolfsbane bullet and wished that it was just a few inches to the left so that maybe it would have hit his heart. How many times he just wanted all the pain and guilt and suffering to end. And for him to finally make it out of that hole. For him to  _finally_ be in a place where he was happy to be alive. Only for this....for death to finally come.

And that’s what he got.

For everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Dudes...I know.
> 
> UPDATE: I reread it and I'm aware it wasn't as devastatingly sad as I thought it was/made it seem. It's just kind of...prickly. I shall refrain for updating any works while running on 3 hours of sleep and emotions from now on.
> 
> [please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts, questions, opinions, etc. thank you]


End file.
